


we are far too young and clever

by spidermanhomecomeme



Series: Spideychelle Song Fics [3]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Dirty Thoughts, F/M, First Kiss, Michelle Jones is Beautiful, Parties, Peter Parker is a thot, Seven Minutes In Heaven Game, Song Lyrics, Song: Come On Eileen (Dexys Midnight Runners), Spotify Shuffle Game, as always
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:29:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26430424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spidermanhomecomeme/pseuds/spidermanhomecomeme
Summary: Oh, I swear (what he means)At this moment you mean everythingYou in that dressMy thoughts (I confess)Verge on dirtyOh, come on, Eileen
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Series: Spideychelle Song Fics [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1930429
Comments: 22
Kudos: 30
Collections: The Spideychelle Shuffle





	we are far too young and clever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jsscshvlr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jsscshvlr/gifts).



This is stupid. 

Middle school, even _freshman year,_ stupid. 

They’re seniors for crying out loud. 

_Graduated_ seniors. Soon-to-be adults-in-training. They’re going off to college soon, to do grown-up things, or whatever it is that college students do when they’re set free from parental guidance. 

This shouldn’t be that weird.

But then why is it that sitting in this dark closet across from MJ **—** also his best friend **—** for a dumb game like seven-minutes-in-heaven at Flash’s end of the year bash, makes him feel like Peter.exe is 0.2 seconds from crashing? 

It also doesn’t help that every time he’s seen her—be it in the kitchen, in the basement, on the deck by the pool—he’s had to pick up his jaw from the boozy floor at the sight of her in that flowy red dress, had to stop himself from wondering if it’s as soft as it looks, what it would feel like twisted in his hands. It’s not an overly-scandalous dress by any means; knee-length with short-sleeves and a simple scoop neckline that gives a nice view—that really isn’t as tantalizing as he thinks it is—of her collarbones, which then of course, makes his gaze just want to trail lower and—

_Down, Peter._

It _also_ also doesn’t help that he may or may not have already been harboring a crush the size of Alaska on said girl for the past two years. 

He’s spent almost the entire party—and the entirety of senior year, if he’s being honest—finding ways to avoid any form of confrontation with his feelings, anything that will keep them from being alone. 

That is, until Flash decided to start seven-minutes-in-heaven, and he thought he was being hilarious when Peter and MJ were picked and shoved into his basement coat closet, yada yada yada, etc. etc. etc. 

And now, here Peter is, trying everything in his power not to look directly at her—something that proves to be far more difficult than what’s fair. She seems to be doing the same, hands folded in her lap as she stares up at the shelves, mouth pressed into a thin line. 

A stuttering beat passes, and Peter has the sudden urge to break the silence.

“I like you,” He blurts, surprising even himself. 

Michelle’s gaze snaps to his, her eyes wide as she blinks owlishly at him. “What?” She asks, eyeing him skeptically. 

Peter almost screams—more at himself than anything—but he holds back, chuckling nervously as he scratches the back of his neck. “I… like you.”

“Oh,” she breathes, staring at him, her mouth parted. 

It’s the silence that follows that makes him want to run out of that coat closet, out of the house, out of Queens, out of the _Universe_. 

But then, she always manages to surprise him. 

“I like you, too.”

When he looks up to see her shy smile that he’d always thought was adorable in the few times he’d seen it now directed right at him, his heart skips an entire measure of music. She’s glowing, she’s everything, and he has to remind himself how to breathe so he doesn’t pass out in front of her. 

But if it’s the look she gives that kills him, then the moment she starts to lean in might be the nail in the damn coffin. 

Her lips touch his with giddy hesitation; soft and excited, and it’s better than any of his late-night dreams could have ever prepared him for. His hands come to rest on her waist, and it’s then that he makes perhaps his second favorite discovery of the night. 

That red dress _is_ as soft as it looks. 


End file.
